At Home
by Ersatz Einstein
Summary: This is just a little one-shot on Dolly's thoughts and how emotionally confusing her situation is. The title may be subject to change (and ideas are welcome). Rated T because it's more or less impossible to have a lower rating here. Please R&R.


She bounces a ball against the side of their house, using her knee and her ankle alternatively. Across the street, a group of boys stop to watch her. They try to be subtle, but she knows they're watching the movement of her pink thigh as it bounces up and down independent of her skirt.

_He's so much smarter than them._

She rolls her eyes and grabs the ball out of the air, depriving them of the spectacle. A wry grin spreads across her face as she imagines what his reaction would be.

_He's awfully stupid sometimes. Jealous, too._

Thoughtfully stroking the ball, she sees the boys leave. They couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen, really. She can imagine him seeing them and telling them to leave, upset by their staring. He'd have the same expression on his face as he does when talking to her teachers. (Once, he told her that there was no need for her to feel intimidated by inferior minds.) A stern, fatherly expression of irritation and authority.

_He's a real grownup. He knows how to make people listen to him and pay attention._

She cradles the ball in her arms. Unbidden, her thoughts fly to last night. (He clutched her knees and begged her to let him touch her. She was trying to study, but he offered her a dollar.)

_He's like a whiny little kid._

She abruptly drops the ball and begins to dribble it, trying on each hit to smack it harder and harder against the pavement. With each bounce, the pressure on her hand when the ball hits it increases. (Once she asked him if he wanted to be a real dad. He said maybe one day, but not yet. Then he kissed her.)

_That'd be a great movie: 'Hummy the Hubby.' It'd be all about those silly moments when he begs, and his wife wouldn't let him touch her if he didn't buy her lots of clothes and candy._

She starts to throw it against the wall. (Last week, he wouldn't let her go to a movie with her friends, no matter how much she begged and yelled and threatened.) She wishes it to be his stupid face she's hitting.

_He's so lame! All the other kids' dads let them go to movies._

She runs out of steam and lets the ball bounce on its own for a while. It manages to get as high as her head once before it starts to lose energy. Soon it's just dribbling on the ground. She bends down to pick it up, but quickly stands when she hears sniggering.

She turns and sees that the boys are back. They're smiling at her and laughing. One of them has his hand in his pocket and is moving around.

She bursts into tears. She's not even sure why she's crying as she runs up and throws the ball at their ugly faces. She aims for the boy with his hand in his pocket, but it goes wide and hits one of the others.

"Get lost, ya bastards!" she yells. Still laughing, they run off to pick on someone else.

She wipes her eyes with her grubby hand and goes to get the ball. It's rolled into some weeds in the playground. She ducks under the half-finished fence and grabs the ball as quickly as she can. She tucks in under her arm and crosses the street, forgetting until she's halfway across that she's supposed to look for cars.

She's not crying as she walks back to the house, but her face is red and puffy. It's stupid, really. She shouldn't be crying. They were just some dumb kids. She decides to go in and blow her nose.

_He hates me. He thinks I'm like them so he hates me and tells me to do things I don't want to do and to stay home from movies and dances._

She finds a place in the garage to put the ball where no one will trip over it, then heads in through the back door. The plan of washing her face forgotten, she makes a beeline for the fridge, wherein she finds some cheap lemonade. She doesn't bother to pour herself a glass, preferring to drink straight from the carton. (He only buys it for her, anyway.)

Remembering her mission, she goes to wash her face. She considers going outside again, but it's starting to get late and she has a new magazine to read. Casually flicking a lamp on in the living room, she sinks into the couch and opens the rag, losing herself in the glossy pictures of models as the sun sets.

It occurs to her that he'll be due home any minute. As if on cue, she hears his car pulling into the gravel driveway. She puts the magazine down with an exaggerated sigh and goes to meet him. She smiles a little as he opens the door.

_He loves me._


End file.
